


Almost Dead

by stonegirl77



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Barton Loves Air Vents, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Not Really Character Death, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonegirl77/pseuds/stonegirl77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following imagine: Imagine after being thought dead, the Avengers find you in a HYDRA facility. from marvelximagines.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murdered by Pirates is Good.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> So this is my first attempt at getting back into writing (it's been awhile, and I know I have other stuff to finish, but anyway) This was supposed to be a oneshot, but, well, Clint didn't agree. So it's a (short) series. Mostly complete, I'll post daily until it's done.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, comments always appreciated!

I was alone. I hadn’t been alone since I’d been taken by HYDRA at the end of a mission, and I’d lost track of how long that had been. It could have been two weeks, it could have been six. Of course, if the guards had been smarter, one of them would have stayed with me. On the other hand, hearing the words ‘The Avengers are here - coming in hot’ does tend to make bad guys run like hell.

So I had two options, assuming the Avengers weren’t just going to blow the place up, which, judging by the almost constant chatter of gunfire, didn’t seem likely. First of all, I could wait for rescue, possibly die in gunfire or starve to death if they didn’t realise I was here. Not exactly my idea of a good time. Or, my preferred option - I could try and escape.

I fished the powerful magnet I’d clawed off my suit as I was captured out of my bra - hopefully it wasn’t slowly killing me by being in such close, long-term proximity, but I really wasn’t in any shape to worry if I’d die in five years from complications. I was more worried about the next five minutes.

So I held the magnet in one hand and stretched it through the bars of my cell, towards the desk in the far corner. Why the desk? Because on top of the desk lay the keys to my cell.

“Come on,” I pleaded, stretching even further through the bars, hoping like hell the magnet was strong enough. The keys shifted a little. “Yes, come on!” I repeated, and then a blast shook the building.

I was thrown to the floor, outstretched hand clutching the magnet, wrenching my shoulder as I slid down between the bars. _Ouch._

The Avengers were getting closer, though, and I really wanted to get out of the cell in case HYDRA thought I was better dead than alive. So I scrambled to my feet. And the keys were on the floor. 

“For the ever-loving love of Thor!” I swore. “Couldn’t the fucking keys stay on the fucking table?” I extended my hand again, and the keys shifted again just as the door opened.

A gun came through first, and I dropped my magnet in my hurry to get my hands up. The last think you wanted a combat shooter to see in your hand was a piece of metal. Didn’t much matter whose combat shooter it was. But I needn’t have worried. Someone in SHIELD gear stepped the whole way through the door, then stopped dead. Hands pushed the helmet off, and I was face-to-face with Maria Hill.

“Hey,” I said weakly, glad beyond words to see a friendly face. “Mind getting me out of here?”

Hill just stared at me for a long moment. Then she smiled, bending down. “Sure thing.” Another SHIELD agent had followed her in and also kept glancing at me every few seconds. _I guess they weren’t expecting to find friendlies,_ I thought, but then the key jangled in the lock, and I didn’t care about anything but getting out of the 5’ by 10’ half-room that had been home for most of my captivity. Hill slung an arm around me as I took a cautious step across the threshold.

“We found L/N,” Hill said, and I realised as I turned to look at her that she was speaking into her coms. Pause. “No, alive.” She looked at me, smiled, then looked me up and down. “No, all seems to be fine. But she’s got bare feet.” Another pause. “Fine. We’ll wait here.” I moved to sit on the desk.

“Who’re we waiting for?”

Hill smiled. “Someone’s coming to give you a ride to the Quinjet - we don’t have any spare shoes.” She grinned again. “You know we thought you were dead.”

It didn’t compute. “What? How long was I gone?”

“Four weeks,” Hill said, coldly. “They sent us your suit - a piece of it, anyway. Covered in your arterial blood.” I glanced down at my leg, which had had a piece of shrapnel through it when I’d first been taken.

“Well, I’m not,” I said. It was vastly inadequate, but it would have to do. “They took my suit.” I was dressed in standard-issue HYDRA duds they’d given me as soon as I was well enough not to need an IV.

Hill smiled. “Everyone’s going to be so happy to see you,” she said. My stomach lurched as my thoughts scattered. Everyone? Did they have my funeral already? I heard footsteps in the hallway - someone was running towards us.

A familiar head ducked through the doorway, and I was suddenly facing Agent Barton. He stopped a yard away from me, eyes widening as he saw me.

“F/N,” he whispered.

“Hey, Barton,” I said, just as softly. He looked damn good, in his new uniform, the one with the high collar - I’d only seen the drawings Stark had made, with his bow slung over one shoulder and the quiver over the other. Clint and I had been friends and colleagues for a while - the knife-thrower and the archer in an organisation that worshipped firearms were bound to become friends - but over time, I’d come to rely on him, more than I should. We’d spent nights at the other’s place, watching TV, falling asleep on the couch and waking up to sunlight streaming through the windows.

And I gazed back at Clint, at his hair that was still somewhere between blonde and brown, at the green-grey eyes staring back at me, a look of wonder on his face, hands hanging loosely at his sides. It was so good to see him again, and I let myself remember what I’d been suppressing since I’d been captured. I loved him - and had for years. I hadn’t been willing to let HYDRA know it, hadn’t been willing to let them use it against either of us, so I’d made myself forget it, to never think of it. And now I was safe again. And he was here.

“Hi,” he said, and swallowed, looking in the direction of my cell. I could see his face change, his brows draw down, his jaw clench, as he realised where I’d been locked away. He shook his head, then looked at me with his usual half-smirk. “Maria said you needed a ride?”

“And I get one from the famous Hawkeye?” I joked right back, falling into our usual banter with ease. So what if I felt like everything we said suddenly meant ten times more. It didn’t. “Damn it. I was holding out for Thor.”

Clint growled and swept me up, one arm around my shoulders and one underneath my thighs, holding me close to his chest. “Thor’s busy rounding up the rest of the HYDRA guys with Cap. You’re stuck with me.” My arms had wrapped around his neck, and I was lucky I could hide from Clint’s expression when I replied.

“Oh, darn. Guess I’ll have to deal with Hawkass of the Fabulous Arms then.” 

 


	2. Please Consider Me as an Alternative to Suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should have said before that this is a totally un-beta'd fic, so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

I kept my arms firmly around his neck as Clint carried me through the rubble that was what was left of the HYDRA base. I half-wanted to start asking questions, but I wasn’t willing to break the silence, preferring instead to focus on the sensation of Clint’s arms around me, of my arms around his neck, to let myself re-memorise his profile. 

Of course he caught me staring, once or twice. We were being shadowed by a few SHIELD agents in combat black, so even Clint couldn’t really tease me about it. He just looked back at me, eyes crinkling as he grinned. Finally I managed to tear my eyes away from Barton and concentrate on where we were going. I’d never been in this part of the base before, and it was a vaguely smoky mass of hallways and open doors. I got nods and smiles as Clint walked towards the exit.

“Hey, L/N,” someone said, and my head jerked to find Sam Wilson had come to join us.

“How’s it going, Sam-o?” I asked, grinning at him. “Long time no see.”

“Better for seeing you, kid,” he said, bumping my outstretched fist. “Everyone’s gonna be so glad to see you.” He glanced at Clint. “You told ‘em yet?”

Clint chuckled.“I kinda have my hands full,” he joked. “Besides, I want to see their faces.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Sam just looked at us and shook his head. 

“What?” I asked.

“You’re not even back from the dead for five minutes,” I felt Clint’s grip on me tighten, “And you’re already joking around with Barton.”

“What doesn’t kill us, right?” I said, trying to play the whole thing off as a joke. Saying ‘I only joke around with Clint because it’s the way I stop myself from blurting out ‘I love you’ every five minutes’ wasn’t something I cared to share with Sam.

We rounded another corner and there was a door. A door which was spilling sunlight. 

“Careful of your eyes,” Clint murmured, as one of the soldiers gave us a grin and opened the door. 

“Teach your grandma to suck eggs,” I said, but hid my face against Clint’s shoulder as we exited the compound. 

I was free. 

I felt the wind, the sunshine warming me after a month of air conditioning, smelled exhaust, and grass, and gunpowder. It smelled wonderful, and I realised with a start that my eyes were welling up. _Too much sensory information,_ I thought a bit desperately. _Too much, too much._

“F/N?” Clint asked, sounding a bit worried, so I turned to look at him, even though I knew my tears would be visible. 

“I’m good, Barton,” I said, my voice only slightly altered. “It’s… it’s just a lot to take in.” Clint started moving faster to the Quinjet.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “Shit. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Only my pride,” I said, smacking him gently. “I mean, look at me, being carried out of here like some kind of fairy princess.” _Not that I mind being carried anywhere by you, dear, but that’s neither here nor there._ “I’m good. Really. Just a little overwhelmed. It’s nice to be outside.” My voice broke a little on the last word, and Clint’s arms tightened around me as he sped up again, practically jogging now, then slowed and stopped. He set me down gently onto an equipment box just outside the Quinjet, then knelt in front of me. I almost shivered at the abrupt loss of body heat - Clint was _warm._

He took one of my arms and began checking it for injuries, then the other.

“Clint, I’m fine,” I protested, then froze. I’d never called him by his first name before. Clint froze too, hands still on my shoulder, face dizzyingly close to mine. 

“L/N!” Someone shouted, and the moment was broken. I let out a shaky breath, and Clint moved to sit next to me, our knees almost touching. I looked up to see Cap and Thor jogging towards us.

“Hi Steve,” I said when they were close enough to hear. Steve pulled me to my feet with a grin and hugged me, lifting me off my feet.

“I’m so glad you’re still alive,” he said.

“Me too,” I joked.

“But I think Barton’s happier than everyone else put together,” Steve whispered, and I looked back at Clint, who was half-smiling, looking at us. I hadn’t seen that expression on his face before, and I wondered what it meant. “We all went a little nuts there, when we thought you were gone.”

I frowned. “You’ll have to tell me about that, sometime,” I said.

“It’s a promise,” Cap said, letting me go and passing me over to the other blonde giant in our group. 

“Lady F/N, it is a pleasure to see you again!” Thor boomed.

“Yeah,” I grinned at Thor. It was impossible not to. “Reports of my death have been… exaggerated. Or something.” Thor just kissed my hand, courtly love style, and smiled at me.

“We are all pleased to see you are indeed alive, is that not so, Barton?” I glanced at Clint again. The half-smile had been replaced with his normal cheery expression. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to break in another agent,” he joked. I smiled, but it was a little forced. I knew Clint didn’t mean it, but the reality of the situation still stung. If I had been dead, life would have gone on without me. The Avengers would have mourned, but they still needed to save the world. Clint must have seen my expression change, because I was suddenly sitting next to him again. “And you’ll notice I said ‘break in,’ not replace,” he whispered in my ear, an arm going around my shoulder. “No one could replace you, F/N.” His arm tightened. “God, I’m glad you’re alive.”

I couldn’t help it. I put my arms around him and curled into his embrace. “Me too, Barton. Me too.”

 


	3. Let Me Explain - No. Let Me Sum Up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our fearless reader learns some of what happened while she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late - I didn't get a chance to look over it yesterday. I'm sorry this one's a little short. But Tony got in the way...
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“So,” I said hours later. I’d sat around as the rest of the soldiers did post-op cleanup, running around with cameras, transporting prisoners, gathering samples. It was normally my least-favourite part of an op, but this time I felt a bit out of place, sitting on an empty box just watching. 

And Clint stayed within earshot the entire time. All the other Avengers came over to say hi, except for Bruce, who was still at the Tower this time. Nat had called him, though, and I’d spent a good ten minutes talking to the happily babbling scientist.

Finally we’d packed everything up, including the box I’d been using as a chair, and started the flight home - which was going to take a while - apparently the base I’d been in was in Mongolia. We were all sitting together; Cap, Sam, Thor, and Nat at a table, Tony in the armchair closest to the Scotch, and Clint and I were on the couch. This time our knees were touching. After a month of trying to forget Clint’s existence, the constant close proximity was too much and not enough, all at the same time. If I was still sane by the time the plane landed, I’d be very much surprised.

“What happened while I was gone?” It wasn’t quite the question I’d wanted to ask. No, those were things like ‘Did you have a funeral?’ ‘Did you tell my family?’ ‘Did you care I was dead?’ Not things I could really ask.

It was like I’d flipped a switch. Everyone’s faces went dark, and they all looked, without exception, at Clint. So, of course, I looked too. He kept looking out the window, even though I was sure he’d heard the question. Was it just my imagination, or was he clenching his jaw? It was hard to tell from this angle.

“Well, we saved the world twice,” Tony said, and my gaze flipped to him. 

“Only twice?” I asked. “That seems statistically below average.”

“I think the universe gave us a break there, as we were down one,” Sam said. He started jokingly, but finished glum.

“Wow,” I said, letting my hands slap down onto my knees. “This is cheerful.”

“We buried you,” Clint growled, making me jump. “We had your funeral. We thought you were dead.” My hand, seemingly of its own volition, moved to rest on Clint’s leg. His hand, just as quickly, covered mine and squeezed gently. 

“I’m not dead, though,” I said softly.

“We know.” That was Steve, looking at Clint and I with a small smile. “But it’s still going to take us some time to catch up to the fact you’re still here.”

“You’ll just have to deal with us being a little clingy,” Tony put in. “Well, Cap, Wilson, and Hawkass, I mean. I personally am far too awesome to do something like that.”


	4. Life Is Pain. Anyone Who Tells You Differently Is Selling Something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F/N has nightmares. She runs into Tony, and they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so long to post - I ended up cutting the scene which was supposed to be this chapter, so I had to do a complete rewrite (I'm a bit sad it got cut, so maybe I'll post it here, as a deleted scene. Any interest?)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy - this one's a bit angsty.

“Come on, Stark,” I grumbled, trudging the last few steps over to the fridge and bending over to open the freezer drawer. “Please have some.”  

“Have some what?” The voice came from over by the couch, and I stifled a shriek as I spun, ready to punch someone’s lights out.

“What the hell, Stark?” I said harshly, recognising the bed-head of the inventor as he levered himself up into a sitting position. I hadn’t been expecting anyone to be in the common room this late - we’d all parted ways at about 11, and it was after 2 now. My adrenaline spiked as my heart rate slowed, the need to fight suddenly vanishing. Tony wasn’t a threat.

“I could ask you the same, Hummingbird.” Tony’s latest amusement was to call me a different type of bird every time he saw me. He hadn’t yet repeated himself. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I can sleep fine,” I shot back. “It’s the staying asleep that’s the problem.” _If you call screaming nightmares a problem staying asleep,_ I thought, finally opening the freezer and scanning its contents. I hadn’t had an uninterrupted night’s sleep since getting off the Quinjet at Stark Tower three days earlier. But I wasn’t complaining. I usually woke up just as the bullet bound for Clint left the barrel of the bad guy’s gun. No way in Hell did I want to be asleep for the aftermath of that. Or awake for it, for that matter. 

“Insomnia?” Tony asked right as I was reaching for the chocolate ice cream. 

“Something like that,” I said, grabbing the pint and a spoon. It was about half-empty from the feel of it, and I wasn’t worried enough about my ability to finish it to grab a bowl. I could feel Tony’s skepticism as I slid onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

“Nothing wrong with admitting you have nightmares, Chickadee,” Tony said, coming up to sit next to me.

“I never said I didn’t,” I replied, sticking my spoon into the ice cream. Delicious. 

“I had them every night when I first got back from Iraq,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. “Dreams where I got killed with Yinsen. Dreams where I didn’t even make it out of that cavern. Where Obadiah, may he rest in Hell, killed me. Where he killed Pepper, and made me watch.” I put a hand on the inventor’s shoulder, and he looked at me, giving me a ghost of his usual cheerful smile. “I mostly got over it, before the Avengers,” he continued. “But then new Hell. New fodder for my Cthulu of a subconscious. Aliens, Asgardians, black holes that I don’t come back from. New friends to be tortured and killed in front of me. Cap, Thor, Bruce, your friend Hawkass.” 

He fully turned in his chair to face me, and my hand fell away from his shoulder. “Tell me, Sparrow. What do you think of our other avian ally?” His face was almost too serious, and I had a feeling. I had a feeling Tony knew exactly why I was having screaming nightmares bad enough to drench my feelings in ice cream at 2am.

“Barton?” I asked, keeping my expression neutral. More ice cream. “He’s my partner,” I said. “One of my best friends. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think he’s the one you see killed every night,” Tony said bluntly. My jaw dropped, and my eyes narrowed. “I know all about it,” Tony continued blithely, not caring how close I was to putting him into a headlock and demanding to know how he knew… what _did_ he know, exactly? The sleep deprivation must be messing with my brain. “I know every night since you’ve been here you leave your quarters at least once and don’t return for at least forty minutes. One night you went to the roof, one night you went to the gym, and tonight you’re here. Cap went through a similar period. Bruce too. Even Hawkass, for that matter.” Tony smiled. “We’re practically old hands at dealing with PTSD here.”

“How.” It wasn’t even a question. I wanted to know how he knew.

“JARVIS.” Tony said it as if it was obvious. To him, it probably was. “He monitors where you’re going when you’re not in your quarters. No monitoring in your actual place, though. No worries. I’m not that much of a pervert.”

“Right.” More ice cream. That was the only solution. I took another spoonful, one large enough to risk brainfreeze. At this point, I didn’t care. Tony sat there in silence for a minute, letting me shovel even more ice cream into my mouth until my tongue was practically numb.

“You know he was a wreck when we thought you were dead.” My head rotated to Tony. “There’s something I think you should see.”

“Is this why you were here?” I asked. “Waiting for the poor insomniac to show herself, then ambush her with Barton’s Funniest Home Videos?”

Tony barked a laugh that contained remarkably little humour. “I wish.” He ran a hand through his hair again, and I wondered why he bothered. It only made his hair messier. “Tonight I got to watch as the Mandarin killed Pepper and you before Cap got himself killed trying to save us all,” he said.

“Christ,” I muttered. Tony’s imagination sure worked overtime.

“Anyway.” Tony gestured to the giant TV over by the couch. “I wanted to show you something. Not that the others will suggest it. They probably think it’s morbid. Or something.”

“What is it?” I asked, intrigued in spite of myself.

“Just watch,” he said. “JARVIS? Play the footage from three weeks ago, if you would. You know the relevant stuff.”

“Are you certain, Sir?” The AI sounded hesitant. 

“Do it, J,” Stark said, flopping back onto the couch. 

“As you wish, Sir.” I followed and seated myself more sedately, still carrying the ice cream. Because if some things were too precious to wasted, chocolate ice cream was definitely one of them. The screen flickered to life and I recognised Arlington National Cemetery. It was a news broadcast, and I watched, transfixed as a reporter began to speak.

“Reporting live from Arlington National Cemetery, we join the Avengers as they mourn the loss of one of their own. F/N L/N, a hero to not just our country, but the world.” I tuned out the praise of my deeds - as if anyone would really praise me for most of the things I’d done - and watched instead. The hearse pulled up and the team got out of the black cars behind. Tony, Steve, Sam, and Pepper in one car, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce in another. All in black. As usual, I spared a thought for how handsome Clint looked in formalwear, but was struck instead by his expression. He looked… dead. I hadn’t ever seen him like that, not even when he’d been taken by Loki. There was no expression on his face, no light in his eyes. It looked like some necromancer had reanimated his corpse and had sent him to my funeral. The others let him lead the way to my coffin, and Tony, Thor, Sam, Natasha and Bruce stood with Clint and hauled my coffin up to their shoulders. 

I was only aware of tears streaming down my face when Tony pulled the ice cream out of my hands. “You’ll get the chocolate all salty,” he commented softly. “JARVIS, the wake footage, please.”

The screen darkened for a minute, then a picture of the Tower solidified. Everyone was in their funeral gear still, drinks in hand, arguing.

_“I don’t care,” Clint burst out._

_“Clint, think this through.” That was Natasha, sounding almost desperate as she tried to put a hand on his shoulder._

_“I have thought it through. I spent way too long just thinking things through. And now she’s dead!” Clint slammed his beer down on the coffee table and stood, pacing back and forth. “She’s dead, Natasha. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”_

_“I hardly think killing yourself is what F/N would have wanted,” Steve said reasonably._

_“Well, she isn’t here any more to yell at me, is she?” Clint almost shouted it, turning and running a hand through his hair. “I just want to get the bastards who killed her, then I’ll join her, if she’ll let me.”_

“No, Clint,” someone whispered, and I realised it was me. Here, alive, watching the man I loved lose his mind. “No please don’t.”

_“Don’t you care about her at all?” Steve said, and I could tell he was starting to get angry._

_“Care? Damn it, Steve. I love her. I love her and I never got to tell her.”_

I sucked in a breath of air and didn’t let it out. I couldn’t have heard what I’d heard, right? There’s no way.

_“I love her and she’s dead. And not in her bed. Not like Peggy.” The others went very quiet. We all knew Peggy was a sore subject for Steve. But Steve didn’t say anything, so Clint went on, still practically yelling into a dead silent room. “No. She didn’t get to die in her sleep at age 97. No. She was butchered by HYDRA, and I will skin every last person responsible! And then I will make sure I join her. And none of you will stop me.”_

“Turn it off, please, Tony,” I whispered, throat suddenly tight. The screen went dark without Stark having to say anything. 

“Sorry, Dove,” Tony said, and I half-glared at him. 

“Birds, still?”

“Keeps me amused.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “I thought you needed to see that.”

I nodded. “I did. Thanks, I think.” I sat there for a while, Tony’s hand slung lightly around my shoulders, processing. 

“F/N?” 

I lurched to my feet and spun. “Barton?”

Clint was standing in the doorway to the common room, clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“I didn’t think you’d be up,” he said, ambling in. “Stark - thought you’d be with Pepper.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony said, blase as usual, “Neither could Ugly Duckling here.”

“Hey!” I said, but there was no real heat in it. 

“Stark!” Clint said at the same time, sounding much more annoyed. 

“Fine, fine,” Tony said, getting up and stretching. “I think I hear Pepper calling anyway. And he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

“So…” I said finally, wanting to break the silence that had fallen. “What brings you here this time of night?”

 


	5. This is True Love - You Think This Happens Everyday?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and you have a talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SOOOO sorry it's taken me so long to post this. Major life crisis, career crisis, and heartbreak all happened while I was out of town, and it's taken me a while to recover. 
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to get this out there, so I hope you all enjoy!

“What brings you here this time of night?”

The question hung in the air as Clint and I stared at each other.

“I didn’t know you were having nightmares,” he commented. He wasn’t speaking loudly, but there was no way I couldn’t have heard him, in the quiet of Avengers Tower. “Nightmares?” I started to deny it, but then let my hands flutter back down to their sides. It was pointless. If Tony knew, and Tony was fairly oblivious at the best of times, the entire team did.

“Yeah.” I sighed, leaning against the wall. “I’m fine during the day, but my subconscious has decided to be a son of a bitch when I’m asleep.”

Silence. I traced a semicircle on the carpet with my toe.

“You could have come to me, you know,” he said.

“And disturb your sleep too?” I replied without thinking. “Yeah, no. Not gonna do that.”

“And here I am anyway, sleep disturbed.” He grinned, but it vanished faster than a Poptart around Thor. “Any of that left?” He gestured at the now-empty pint still in my left hand.

I shook my head. “You snooze, you lose.” I cracked a smile myself. “Literally.” This was all getting a little surreal for me. Here I was making small talk with Clint. The man I loved, who I’d just found out had been preparing to avenge my murder, then, what? Commit suicide.

My continued shock at the idea must have shown, because Clint took a step closer, bending his head so he could see into my face. He put a hand under my chin and tilted it up, and my skin buzzed where he touched it.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, moving closer still. Dizzyingly close. I wasn’t prepared for this, wasn’t ready to face Clint. I was tired. I was still upset. And yet, here he was, one breath away, looking so damn concerned. “You were crying.” He didn’t even wait for me to try and answer.

I jerked away, shaking my head automatically, then let it fall, examining the distance between his bare feet and mine. Too far and too close, all at the same time.

I should say something. I should try and explain. “You weren’t supposed to know.” Where the hell had that come from? I hadn’t given myself permission to speak, goddamnit! “I just…”

“You can tell _Stark_ things you can’t tell me?” I had to look up then, because his tone - well, it had slipped from jealous to downright resigned. Clint almost had his mission face on at this point, and I figured I had to set him straight.

“More like _he_ was telling _me_ things,” I replied.

“What things?” he asked warily, reaching out almost tentatively to put a hand on my arm, pulling gently to reel me in. Of course I came a few half-steps closer, close enough to play idly with his shirt as I searched for words. I had the feeling what I said next could either save me or damn me. Why was this harder than the month at HYDRA?

“He showed me what happened at my funeral,” I said softly, not brave enough to meet Clint’s eyes. “And the wake.” Clint’s hand, still on my arm, tightened convulsively. “I have a bone to pick with you, Clint Barton,” I continued, tears welling up again in spite of myself. “If I die, or get captured again, or whatever, you are not allowed to follow me, you hear? No suicide by HYDRA, or aliens, or whatever, ok? I…. I couldn’t handle it. You’re not allowed to die on me, Clint.”

Clint half-laughed, wrapping the arm that had been on mine around my waist and pulling me the rest of the way to him. “I won’t if you won’t, ok? No more getting captured. No more making me believe you’re dead. One funeral is all you get.” That last sounded a bit choked up, but I couldn’t see his face, not from where my head was lying comfortably on his shoulder.

“Deal,” I said, tightening my arms around his middle. I felt so comfortable, so safe within the circle of his arms, I wasn’t thinking clearly when I opened my mouth again. “Oh, and I love you too. Just so you know.”

Clint froze, hands that had been tracing up and down my back suddenly completely still. “Say that again?” he asked. I leaned back, looking up to see his face. He was staring right back at me, eyes boring into mine. Here goes nothing, I thought. The drop off this cliff face isn’t so bad.

“I love you too,” I repeated. Clint remained silent. “I mean, I heard what you said at the wake. You said you -“ and then his lips were on mine, and I was being very thoroughly kissed. One of his hands was in my hair, the other on the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I was so so far from complaining.

“I love you,” Clint breathed between kisses, having somehow manoeuvred me so I was trapped between him and the nearest wall. “And” kiss “I thought - Christ, Y/N,” I’d begun to run my fingers through his hair, “Thought I’d never get to tell you.” I kissed back, giving as good as I got, trying to get as close to him as he was trying to get to me.

“Right back atcha,” I gasped as Clint started kissing his way down my neck. “Loved you for years - Barton!” He’d started a hickey right above my collarbone.

“You two having fun?” A different voice asked. Clint spun, putting himself between me and whomever it was as I grabbed for the spoon I’d stashed in my pocket. It was Tony.

“Stark,” Clint sighed. I decided to ham it up, just once. With a grin, I hopped up on my toes, propping my chin on Clint’s shoulder, threading my arms around his middle.

“Actually we were, Tony,” I told him impishly, nibbling on Clint’s neck. He jumped in surprise, then I felt him grin as he put a hand over mine.

“Yeah,” he drawled, half-turning so we were in a proper hug again. “We’ve got some catching up to do. So unless you want to buy industrial strength brain bleach?” He dipped his head to give me a thoroughly dirty kiss, all tongue and body pressing against mine. I kind of lost track of what was going on around me - Clint was everywhere, arms around me, body firm where he was pulling me closer, and lips and tongue playing with mine.

“Ahem.” I pulled away, panting and grinning, to look at Tony. He was looking a little abashed. Just a little. But mostly smug. “I’m totally taking credit for you two finally getting your act together,” he said. “But seriously. Get a room.” He waved his hand at the elevator. “You know. One of yours. Not mine. Hell, use Cap’s, for all I care.”

I giggled and hid my face in Clint’s shoulder. His arms tightened gently around me.

“Fine, fine, Stark. We’ll go.” Clint moved suddenly, dropping away and picking me up, bridal style. I yelped as he walked towards the elevator. “But only because I’m pretty sure Cap’d have a fit if we did it in here.”

I laughed again. “Yeah. Let’s spare the Captain’s delicate sensibilities. Night Tony!” I called as the elevator doors opened.

“Night!” I heard faintly as Clint deposited me on my feet again.

“I have to walk?” I teased, tracing a finger down Clint’s shirt.

“I need both hands for this,” Clint said, and framed my face with both his hands, simply looking at me. My breath caught as I stared right back. It seemed so surreal. I loved Clint. He loved me.

“Am I dreaming?” I whispered. “This seems to good to be true.”

“If you are, I am,” he replied, grinning. “And it’s about to get way better.”

“Promises, promises,” I grinned back. “Prove it, Barton.”

“With pleasure,” he replied as the elevator doors opened again and he dragged me through them.

This was going to be fun.


End file.
